


Stronger Than Any Physical Force

by RighteousRiot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Kind of Magical Healing Cock, M/M, Pissed Off Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Worried Steve Rogers, giving up control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousRiot/pseuds/RighteousRiot
Summary: Bucky made a distressed sound and his face looked so devastated that Steve almost couldn't stand it, felt like he was going to drop to his knees right there. He touched Steve's face, one high cheekbone, the curve of his jaw and finally ever so gently, he laid the tips of his fingers over the bruises on Steve's neck. "Why can't you see that I'm not worth it?"





	Stronger Than Any Physical Force

**Author's Note:**

> This starts out with some brief descriptions of a mass shooting...please take care if that is a tough subject for you! Also depressed boys all over the place.

All it had taken was one bad day. 

Nightmares weren't exactly uncommon on their floor of the tower, or any of the others for that matter, but Bucky had thought he was getting better. Or better-ish, at least. He almost always woke up easy, now. Just a little prodding from Steve and he was able to claw back out of whatever horror had been playing his head, then a few soft words and he could sleep again. He didn't spend quite as many nights awake anymore, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the sun to rise back up. He was getting _better_ , damn it. 

Then he had flipped on the news this morning. Been immediately assaulted with the latest breaking news. Some gunman deciding that today was the day he would walk into a busy shopping center and end countless lives. The sounds of the sirens and the pop pop pop of gun play on the video playback, the screaming echoing in full surround sound from their speakers...it had been enough to send him into an almost immediate tailspin. He had wanted to turn it off, to mute the horrors and pretend like they didn't exist, but he couldn't. Not when they showed the survivors, dirty faced and crying. Not when a young officer, some dumb rookie, stumbled back behind the reporter, disillusionment obvious in his eyes. Not when they announced that the shooter had only been stopped by his own death, taken by a bullet as he was moving up to the second floor of the shopping complex. He watched it all, motionless. Watched as the story played out and the news moved on to the next story. Watched when it cycled back for the evening recap. For hours Bucky sat there, unable to move or change the channel. 

Sam said that even though he had seen battle, had been around men dying and terrible things, that even though he _still_ fought on a regular basis, it was normal to sometimes be triggered by these things. That sometimes they caught you unaware, in a context you weren't expecting, such as the comfort of your own home and it caused your mind to forget its surroundings. It was _normal_. But Bucky hated it just the same. Resented the weakness he felt, the guilt. The way his mind felt like an enemy more than a friend. He hated every sordid memory and triggered emotion and by the time Steve got back for the day, his mood was nothing less than dismal. 

They ate a quiet dinner, Bucky ducking Steve's curious glances and soft attempts at conversation and then when Steve went to shower, he crawled under the covers of their bed and pretended to be asleep until Steve curled up next to him and put a hand on Bucky's hip. The barely whispered "Buck?" was almost enough to break his resolve, have him rolling over and spilling everything that had happened to Steve. But while he was getting better at the waking up, at the recovery, while he was having fewer nightmares, fewer episodes than ever before...the talking part still came hard for him. Even with Steve he hesitated. And so he let the moment pass, let Steve rub at his hip and sigh and whisper "Okay, Bucky. Its okay. Goodnight, I love you." And he shut his eyes tight against the screams of those people on tv, against the overwhelming love that Steve gave him, against the tears threatening at the back of his throat and trembled, trembled, trembled until he finally fell asleep. 

\-------

When Bucky woke again, it was sudden. An abrupt ripping from one world to the next. The first thing he registered was the clock on their bedside table, reading a bright 3 AM. The next was a sharp pressure around his metal wrist, the sensitive sensors in each plate picking up the way someone was trying to shove him away. He looked down the length of his arm and had to fight from losing the contents of his stomach violently across the bed. His fingers were wrapped tight around Steve's throat, pinning him to the beg with a force that had probably long passed over into painful. It was bad enough seeing that, seeing his own hand harming Steve. That was enough to make him wish for death right then and there. But what really did it, what really had him howling with madness and despair and utter devastation was the way Steve's eyes watched him. Kind. Understanding. Full of love and concern and not one ounce of anger as he mouthed words at Bucky and encouraged him to ease up his grip. "Shh, Buck." Steve's lips shaped the words over and over again. "Shh Buck. Its alright. You're alright. This is home. Bed. You can let go." Bucky wrenched his hand from Steve's throat so violently that he almost went crashing off the bed and then he was stumbling out the door, bouncing off the hallway walls and desperate to get just about anywhere. Anywhere but faced with Steve's understanding. He had hurt the man he loved most. Hurt him AGAIN. And Steve just laid there and...and _understood_. 

That had been twenty minutes ago. 

Bucky was leaning up against the kitchen counter when Steve finally came up to him again, walking slowly and deliberately up to Bucky's side. He had his metal arm tucked up across his chest, as if he could hide it or hold it down or just make it less of a threat and he just looked...so miserable. So broken and beaten down that Steve's could feel his heart breaking with each second that passed. "Look" he said, standing right in Bucky's eye line. When the other man didn't respond, Steve took Bucky's chin in his hand and gently forced his head up, gesturing with the other at his own neck. There were faint purple finger marks, all in a ring around that pale fragile skin. They were fading though, even as Bucky watched. Healing. "See?" Steve asked. He pressed his fingers to one of the marks. "It doesn't hurt, Buck. I'm okay. You didn't hurt me. See how they're almost gone?" 

Bucky was so done, so over all of it. The nightmares and the horrors and the way Steve forgave him over and over again even when he shouldn't. He jerked his chin out of Steve's grasp and felt his lips curl up in a snarl, felt the way any words he said now would be laced with venom. Felt it but couldn't stop now, not with the feel of Steve's neck still fresh in his mind, not with the anger and shame and disgust racing through every part of him. "Don't you _get_ it, Rogers?" he spat. "Can't you ever see a lost cause when its standing right in front of you? When its got its goddamned FIST AROUND YOUR NECK? This _ain't_ okay, no matter how much you wanna cross your fingers and wish it so!" The tenuous hold Bucky had on his temper had finally snapped and he grabbed the nearest object, a heavy ceramic mug, and sent it smashing against the wall. 

Bucky bullied into Steve's space, herding him up against the wall. "Why don't you leave?" he asked. "Why don't you just get the fuck out? Find something better? Stop giving me those eyes all the time, those big understanding eyes. So fucking gentle and sad and a goddamned _waste_. Wasted on me" He hadn't even realized that slow fat tears were leaking out of his own eyes, not till Steve reached up to try and brush them away. Bucky slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me like that!" he yelled, voice near hysterics. " _Don't._ Touch. Me." The words were forced out of his throat, raking like shards of glass. "Why can't you you see, Stevie?" As quick as the anger had come, it was gone again, leaving behind only exposed nerves and unbearable trauma. Bucky's strong voice had gone frail, begging. So broken under the harsh lights of their kitchen. 

Steve had his back pressed against the wall and both hands up, like he wanted to prove that he was harmless. That he wouldn't move. "What is it, Buck?" he asked, feeling echoing emotions in his own voice. He couldn't cry now, not when Bucky so obviously needed him to be strong. That would come later, alone, when there would be no one to take witness. "What do you want me to see?" 

Bucky made a distressed sound and his face looked so devastated that Steve almost couldn't stand it, felt like he was going to drop to his knees right there. He touched Steve's face, one high cheekbone, the curve of his jaw and finally ever so gently, he laid the tips of his fingers over the bruises on Steve's neck. "Why can't you see that I'm not worth it?" Bucky curled his fingers in the hem of Steve's shirt and leaned closer, like despite his words he couldn't make himself break contact. He was weak, he knew that. Knew that from what happened today and from every day since he woke up from the freeze and found out what he'd done. He was weak and that's why Steve needed to be strong. Why Steve had to be the one to walk away. 

"Oh, Bucky" Steve whispered, awed in the worst way. In the face of Bucky's turmoil, still so deep despite the therapy and the good days and the reassurances that everything was getting better. Awed by how badly Bucky still hurt. "Oh, Buck. Oh, Sweetheart." He moved his hands slow, resting them first on Bucky's shoulders before rubbing them across his back and finally pulling Bucky the last few inches into his arms. Steve could feel how badly Bucky was shaking against him. He tucked Bucky's head under his chin and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, tried to get himself under control. Tried to swallow back the sobs that wanted to come screaming from his throat, from the unfairness of it. From the way their lives had been stolen from them and twisted around until even now, in a new reality, they were forever plagued by the past. 

"Bucky..." he finally whispered, unable to completely even out his voice. The tears were there no matter how hard he tried to hide them. "You're my whole heart, Buck. What am I supposed to do if I don't have you, huh? How am I supposed to live this life alone?" He pressed a kiss to Bucky's sweaty hair. "You're worth _everything_. And I know...I know you can't see that, but I need you. I need you on the days you make mistakes, on the days that are hard, I need you or there won't be any more good days left. Can't be myself without you, Buck...don't you know that by now?" Bucky was openly crying how, clutching at Steve's sleeves and letting the other man hold him up as the wails and sobs just kept coming. Steve rocked them side to side, murmuring the same words over and over and pressing soft kisses to whatever part of Bucky's face that he could reach. He kept it up until Bucky took one last shuddering breath and went still, his grip on Steve relaxing only slightly. 

"Wanna try and go back to bed?" Steve asked. When Bucky nodded against his chest and tried to pull away, Steve kept his arms firm around him, kept him close. He waited until Bucky stilled again and then ran his hands down the length of Bucky's body, slow so Bucky would know his intent. He hooked his hands around the back of Bucky's knees and hauled him up until he had his legs around Steve's waist and head tucked into the join of his neck and shoulder. It was a short walk down the hall back to their room and by the time Steve laid Bucky down on the bed, he thought that Buck might be half asleep, exhausted from the earlier swell of emotions. He uncurled Bucky's fingers from his shirt, shushed the quiet whine of protest and quickly stripped the soaked garment off. Instead of putting anything new on, Steve crawled back into bed in just his sleep pants and pulled Bucky back against his chest. 

Steve wrapped one arm around Bucky's waist and was prepared to hold him until Bucky fell asleep but he was restless in Steve's hold, instead. Rolling over until they were face to face, Bucky pressed a soft kiss to Steve's lips. Then another. Curved his mental hand, tentative, so heartbreakingly tentative, around the back of Steve's head and tried for a deeper kiss. Steve pulled back this time, brows furrowed, shaking his head a little. "Bucky" he said, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky's arm. "If you're trying to...apologize, you don't gotta do that. We're okay. I know you must be tired. We can just go to sleep, okay?" 

Bucky couldn't help but rolls his eyes a little, using his thumb to straighten out one golden eyebrow. That was his Stevie. Self sacrificing, always. "This ain't that" he said, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the quiet of their room. "This ain't that. But...the last thing I remember in this bed, tonight, is my hand around your neck. The last thing I saw was hurting you. I just don't want that to be what I take to sleep. I don't want to see that when I close my eyes. Okay?" It wouldn't really matter, Bucky knew this night was likely to come back and haunt him on at least one or two occasions but sometimes it helped to follow up the episode with something good. Something better. That way when he remembered the bad, he had something else to block it out with. He leaned toward Steve again and this time got his deeper kiss. 

They kissed for long minutes, moaning softly into each other's mouths until Steve rolled Bucky onto his back. He pushed t-shirt up under Bucky's armpits and licked at his chest, rubbed his scruffy cheeks over Bucky's collarbones and listened to him hiss. "Take this off" he murmered, rocking back on his heels. "Take your pants off too." Steve followed suit, kicking his sleep pants off and down to the foot of the bed. When they were both naked, he blanketed his body over Bucky's and rolled their hips together for the first taste of friction. Even on top of the blankets, the room quickly grew warm with the movements of their bodies. Steve could feel sweat beading at the ends of his hair and sticking their skin together in all the places they touched. He kissed at Bucky's mouth for a few minutes more before shifting to dig around in their nightstand for the slick. 

Bucky kissed and licked at his neck the whole time, apologizing even if he said he wasn't, and rubbed his face against Steve's pulse. He held tight to Steve's hips, rutting his own up while Steve searched around in the drawer, languishing in the slow pace even as he felt his body start to crave more. Steve finally found the slick and was back over Bucky in an instant, caging him in with one arm up by his head while the other fumbled to get the bottle open. His success was marked with cool fingers rubbing up against Bucky's entrance and then gently pushing in. Steve always spent so long with this part, prepping Bucky like he couldn't bare for him to face even the slightest discomfort. And well, Bucky figured after everything else that had happened tonight, that was a sentiment he could understand. Even if he was impatient, even if his body was vibrating with need. 

By the time Steve was finished to his standards, Bucky was moaning wantonly into the open air of their bedroom. He knew how he sounded and didn't care, knew Steve didn't either. Knew Steve liked it when he sounded a little breathless, a little overwhelmed. Steve hooked first one of Bucky's legs over his elbow and then the other, pushing them open and up toward Bucky's chest. He tucked his hips up close, cock against Bucky's entrance and then he was pushing in, breathing damp sighs against Bucky's face. "Gimmie your hands" he said, once he was fully seated. "Buck. Put your hands up here above your head." Bucky did what he was told, let Steve hold both his wrists in one big wrist and surrendered himself fully to whatever Steve wanted. 

The pace was slow and languid for awhile, Steve's elbows holding Bucky's legs open while he rocked in full body waves. It was like warm water crashing over him, again and again, the sensation starting from the top of his head and surging down every time Steve thrust in. He moaned and arched under Steve, barked out a deep "Fuck!" when Steve hit his prostate. "That's it, Stevie. Right there, love." Steve stilled his hips, grinding hard against Bucky's prostate until he was whining with the intensity of it. Baring his throat for Steve's lips and teeth. "Move, sweetheart, please" he begged. "Please Stevie, it feels so good, but I need you to move. Need you, need to come. Please, love, my sweet babydoll, _please_.

Steve nodded his head in short jerks, picking up his pace until his hips were rocking harshly against Bucky. Until he could feel Bucky tense and jerk underneath him with each thrust, body wound so tight with wanting. "C'mon, Buck" he breathed. "C'mon. You deserve this. You're a good man, you're so good and I love you so much. You deserve this cause I say so and you know I don't lie. You know, Buck. Come for me, babe. C'mon now..."

Bucky wanted to deny Steve's words, shut his eyes and shake his head, but his body was already under too much pressure. Feeling burst through ever inch of him, curling his toes in the open air and forcing his hips up hard against Steve's. He yelled out his pleasure, long protracted moans that shattered whatever quiet had still existed around them. It was amazing and too much and it left Bucky gasping for air, feeling like he was one breath from dying. Steve let go of Bucky's wrists and put both hands next to Bucky's face, leaned down to kiss the sounds out of his mouth. Bucky's legs were falling boneless around him and with a few more thrusts, Steve was coming too, quieter, moaning softly in Bucky's ears until the tremors stopped. 

For a moment it was like time had stopped, save for the harsh sounds of them catching their breath. Bucky ran his hands up and down Steve's sweaty back until he pulled out and flopped down next to Bucky in a tired heap. Steve's eyes were already half closed as he gathered Bucky close, not giving him any time to let doubts creep back in. "You're good, Buck" he said, words slurring and soft. "My best guy."

Bucky knew that this wouldn't be his last hard night. That no matter how many times he told himself that it was better, it wasn't _fixed_. But he also knew how stubborn Steve was, how strong. Knew that no matter what, Steve would never walk away. And that together, maybe they could always make enough good memories to overshadow the bad ones.

He wasn't _good_ , not every day. But he was getting better. He could keep getting better.  
And that was enough, at last, to let him drift off into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the quote - 
> 
> A mind at peace, a mind centered  
> and not focused on harming others,  
> is stronger than any physical force in the universe.  
> \- Wayne Dyer
> 
> Come say Hi on Tumblr  
> http://righteousriot.tumblr.com/


End file.
